Tyranny Through the Tear
by Eronald
Summary: As the final battle begins, Harkon rips open a tear through space and time, which eventually leads to the beginning of the end for the Dawnguard and the sun. Mikhael must journey across realities to find out how to reverse the effects of the prophecy and rescue his beloved Serana from wherever she is. Recommend (but you don't have to) you to read my other fic, Keeper, before this.
1. The Beginning of the End

**A/N: I LIVE! Hello, dear readers. I know it's been almost half a year since I promised to release this but things got out of hand. College is a crazy thing. Not to mention I had a philosophy class which tackled time travel and alternate realities so I had to rewrite the main plot of this thing repeatedly. It made me a little crazy for a while because I HAD to make this thing philosophically consistent, haha. It is for the most part, I suppose. Unless any of you are philosophy majors, I don't think you'll see any big plot holes.**

**So anyway this'll be about as long as Keeper, chapter-wise. The format of the chapters with the "flashbacks" so to say will only continue until the second half reaches the point where the first half last left off. Does that make sense?**

**I recommend y'all to read Keeper before this. If you don't, you'd be able to follow along for the most part, but might occasionally have a hard time understanding the stuff happening. I'll try to put updates out every fortnight as much as possible but no promises. If I'm lucky, it'll be monthly. I shan't keep you waiting any longer. Enjoy! Please review!**

The loud whistling sound was what put me and the rest of the men on alert. The arrow itself was what put me flat on my ass.

It was all happening so fast. The repeated sickening sound of steel piercing flesh was all I could hear for several long moments, paired with the cries of pained men. I stared forward as the Imperials kept rushing forward, weapons and shields raised to protect themselves from arrows coming straight at them. It left them vulnerable to arrows shot at an angle.

Their backs were getting farther and farther away, with man after man falling victim to the barrage of arrows. I could barely see the enemy as I squinted into the distance. The Imperials still had quite the distance to charge. They were bound to face a deficit of soldiers once they began their melee. The battlefield war turning red with Imperial blood fast. Too fast. At this rate, there would be no meat shield to hide me from the enemy.

My vision was suddenly blocked, to my alarm, by a fallen legionary. I didn't notice him bleeding out on his knees beside me until he collapsed- practically on my lap. The young boy's dead stare sent a chill down my spine, causing me to grip the grass and dirt behind me and pathetically pull myself away. The sudden movement caused my previously numb shoulder to scream in pain. I had to grit my teeth to stay silent. I wanted to look away but it was too damned difficult with how his dead eyes were eerily locked onto my own.

I was used to death. I was used to battle. I was no stranger to slitting throats and chopping heads off their bodies. Oblivion, I even had to look death in the eye when I slew an undead dragon as I rode it high up in the sky and plummeted back to the ground. But it was seeing carnage and destruction this up close and personal that could really shake you. This young man... breathing not moments ago. Now he was dead, bleeding profusely from an arrow wedged into his neck, forced to drown in his own blood.

Footsteps behind me. Tons of them. I struggled to crane my head back, only to find a fresh unit of legionaries rushing off into battle to replace that which no doubt perished while I was too busy dragging myself away from the dead legionary. My eyes widened when I realized they had no intention of slowing down at the sight of a wounded comrade. Raising my right hand, I swung it across my body, a pathetic attempt at using the momentum to turn myself over. The half assed roll got me clear of the main charge as they passed, kicking dust up in my face as they went, oblivious to just who exactly I was.

They had no idea. To them I was just a last minute draft into the legion. Unexpected draft at that. The captain certainly wasn't expecting anyone to sign up in enemy territory that they just recently claimed and were now defending. But who was he to refuse? He needed every pair of hands he could get. He ignored the tint of my eyes and the sharp point of my nails. Maybe he didn't notice? I made sure never to speak in the shade and always wear gloves. Blood-red sky or not, the fiery eyes were a dead giveaway only in darkness. It took a keener eye under light to detect the vampire within.

My head turned yet again as another unit slowly marched forth to where the previous unit was before they charged. I never liked the tactic. Sallying out to meet the enemy on the field instead of digging up a spot to hold out in was never a decision I approved of, especially with the possibility of reinforcements. But again, I'm not a Field Legate to them. I'm a greenhorn like most of the men out there being slaughtered at this very moment. It probably wouldn't even matter if I told them it was I, Mikhael Ice-Sider, Dragonborn of legend, war hero and Field Legate, standing before them. I was dead in this world. They'd deem me mad. I'd argue my resemblance. They'd argue that the Riften face sculptor made facial features irrelevant.

What if I shouted? No. No. It's better I'm a greenhorn to them. If they recognized me as the supposedly dead Legate, they would probably put me at the head of command and request my aid in defending their last foothold in Skyrim. I couldn't have that. I had more pressing matters. What did I care about in this world anyway? This world wasn't my home. This world was... a glimpse into the chaos of Oblivion itself. I'm not sure if there was _anything_ in this world that belonged in mine, but if there was it would be... _her_.

_Serana_.

I longed for her. Her striking eyes. Her soft hair. Her playful little fingers. Her delicious lips. _Her everything_.

I missed her so much. Just thinking about the ancient beauty made my unbeating heart ache unimaginably. I tried not to think about her as much as I could, especially when out in the field. It was too distracting. Once she'd get in my head, she'd stay there for a good while. Images, words, smells, feelings, tastes, _everything_ in my mind would be of her.

Sitting here on the ground bleeding out reminded me of that one night. A world away, halfway across Skyrim, no, smack dab in the middle of the bloody province, under a rock formation in the middle of nowhere. The night I first tasted her sweet lips. The night she called "_love_" as I slipped away into a peaceful slumber; sleep had never been as peaceful as ever since she turned me into a creature of the night. Sweet bliss.

My eyes darted back to the battlefield. I spaced out. The battle was getting closer to the outpost and closer to me. The next unit to charge in wouldn't have to travel very far. They were taking the fight to us now. I couldn't stay like this. I couldn't be prey. Not when the enemy was as ruthless and as unforgiving as their Lord Harkon himself.

I forced myself farther back until I was against a large rock which was quickly turning red. The arrow made it clean through and protruded out from the other side of my shoulder. It was quite a deep wound. I had to take it out before I could work on healing the wound. I bit down onto the leather of my armor as my right hand reached over to my back and my left held the shaft still. I got a hold of the arrow's steel tip with my index and my thumb. With one quick motion, I snapped the tip off, hissing into the bitter tasting material as I did. I yanked the shaft out of my shoulder and discarded it. I had to turn my attention briefly over to the advancing enemy army when I heard the hisses and the battle cries. They were getting closer.

I struggled to recall the healing incantations in my head as I pictured the wound being mended. I ran my hands over the entry and exit wounds repeatedly at an even pace as the area was engulfed by a bright glow. The muscles and tissues began to reform and my shoulder was back in working order in no time. To make sure, I stuck a finger through the hole in my armor and tapped the fresh scar. When it didn't begin to bleed yet again, I withdrew my finger. Damned Imperial armor. None of this would have happened if I didn't leave my dragon scale armor at High Hrothgar. Yet... I would be commanding these greenhorns and sending them into their deaths if I had my armor as further proof of me being the long-dead Dragonborn and Imperial Legate.

It made one wonder. Arngeir told me of this world's existence, and that of many others. Was there perhaps a world where I took my armor with me? Was there a world where I shouted to prove my identity? Was there a world where I did not do any of _this_ at all? Was there a world where I beat Harkon at Castle Volkihar and avoided this fuss? One could only guess.

Nearly spaced out again in thought. Divines. This was becoming a more regular occurrence with me. My mind did not stray so easily in my world. Perhaps it was crossing over that caused this. Regardless the origin of my being spacey, there were more pressing matters at hand, mainly that of the approaching threat. There were few remaining from the most recent unit sent into battle, and I could see them just fine from here. The ten or so Imperials ran headfirst into the enemy lines. None of them would make it out alive. I knew it the second the small group thought they could beat them all in a wild skirmish.

Blood erupted from the middle of the frenzy, and my eyes traced a small object sailing out of the mass of bodies and straight towards the newest unit not far from me. The object landed with a loud squish, splattering blood about as it rolled closer to the new unit which elicited several disgusted calls and surprised yelps. The severed head was their instrument of demoralization.

The vampire army saw the Imperials as nothing. Especially since the Imperials were trained in conventional warfare, with barely any training on how to kill vampires. They might as well have been grass for the Volkihar armies to march across. They provided that much resistance. To be fair to the Imperials, Hammerfell stood no bigger a threat than they. According to the locals, the Redguard homeland fell to the Volkihar armies in under two years. The Dominion in Skyrim was overthrown in a matter of weeks. Valerica and Serana were wrong. So far, at least. A vampire army was worth ten conventional armies. When the rest of the world began to figure out how to combat vampires, that's when Harkon needed to worry. But how long would that take? And by that time, would he find ways to overcome vampiric weaknesses? The sun was already down and out. What more was there?

I needed to join the next unit in battle. With me, they had a fighting chance. The ten that ran blindly into the Volkihar lines on the other hand...

I could do nothing but watch as man after man fell in combat. It was brutal. Almost surreal.

One soldier swung his sword in an attempt to decapitate the vampire, a usually sure way to kill the undead. Another caught the soldier's arm easily. The young man tried to be brave, he probably thought if he fought hard enough he still might make it home to Cyrodiil one day. That would be naive to think.

Yet another vampire grabbed the balled fist he tried to throw at his assailant. One clawed hand grabbed him by the hair as a pair of fangs sunk into his neck before jerking backwards, taking flesh and blood with him. Horrible way to die.

There was one in particular that I noticed. The vampires were ganging up on him. When the legionary tried to swing, his arm was grabbed and his sword was wretched from his grip. Following this, he received a sharp kick to the thigh, causing him to buckle slightly. He raised his shield and effectively blocked an attempted decapitation. In his effort to block the fatal attack, he received another kick to the thigh. He spun around to face his attacker, only for one of the vampires to rip his shield from him. He turned around yet again, hands up to guard himself. Most normal legionaries had hand to hand training. These greenhorns though, I doubted it.

I frowned when the kicking went on and on, and he was defenseless against their attacks. He struggled to stand and all it took was one last kick to cause him to collapse onto the ground. It felt... strange. Something was wrong. A sharp pain shot through my head as well as my thigh, and I shut my eyes tight, hoping it would go away. This didn't make any sense. What was causing this? There was no reason for this damned sudden head pain. A hand went to massage my head, when I felt something wet drip onto my hand.

I opened my eyes to look at the substance on my hand. It was blood. My nose was bleeding again. Divines be damned. First in Whiterun, now it was happening here. Was it the man being kicked? Why would that trigger it? My head began to feel light, and I felt a surge of memories forcing themselves into my mind and flooding my vision. The worst part was that I was absolutely certain that not everything entering my mind actually happened. I was never ganged up on and kicked to the ground by the vampires... but my mind begged to differ.

* * *

I sat at the front of the small boat, staring at the castle ahead. The small waves hardly rocked the boat, much to our advantage. The gloomy fog cleared the moment we arrived at the beach. I could see the castle and the surrounding shoreline clear as day. It was absolutely empty. The watchtower was unmanned, and not a single peep of life could be seen by the castle's windows. No smoke came from the chimneys. It was as if Castle Volkihar had been abandoned for years.

That couldn't be the case, of course.

When we arrived at the beach and saw the clear Volkihar shore, Isran and I decided to keep moving before the vampires _did_ show up. Our Imperial backup arrived not long after, in the form of a large frigate with a dozen archers. My ties with General Tullius were still strong. I expected the General to reject my letter requesting aid, given that I hadn't served in the Imperial army for over two years. I was glad he didn't. The Dawnguard needed all the help it could get against the little vampire army Harkon raised. The forty-strong or so company of hunters we had was bound to be badly outnumbered by the Volkihar.

Additionally, Durnehviir from the Soul Cairn was recruited to our cause. He'd prove a great help against gargoyles and vampires alike. Not to mention he'd probably be able to tear down the gates if it came to it. He was more than happy to aid the Qahnaarin in battle and was even happier so to be breathing fresh air again in Tamriel. Divines know how long he was trapped in there. Possible a thousand years at the most. I was still unsure of how long Serana and Valerica were in hiding so to say. Similarly, I was unaware of Serana's age. I supposed it was a rough four thousand years if she predated the Alyssian Empire, with her spending a rough one thousand years in entombment. Or was it a hundred? Following that, was she four hundred years old? I was still quite unsure. I wasn't the best at counting years across the eras.

A hand smacked against the back of my dragon scale helmet, snapping me out of my thoughts and causing me to grunt. I craned my neck around to find a pair of shiny fangs smiling playfully, accompanied by two gorgeous glowing eyes. Serana jerked her thumb in Isran's direction. The head of the hunters removed a hand from his oar and pointed at the one that sat limply on my lap. He began to make motions of rowing. He didn't speak because it had been established that we wanted to maintain a quiet approach as much as possible. I hardly thought that would do much. If the Volkihar were planning an ambush on the beach, being quiet during our approach by sea would do little.

I grabbed the discarded oar and began paddling.

Despite being clad head to toe in dragon scale, the sun's rays still penetrated the armor, making the suit of armor feel hot and stuffy, and causing a slight case of nausea. But all this inconvenience was worth it. My vampirism gave me great speed and strength. I haven't deformed myself into the vampire lord yet. Not sure if I even wanted to. I didn't quite use my vampire powers either. The need hasn't come about. Most importantly though, I was immortal now.

Immortal for her.

I cast a quick glance behind me, hoping to just steal a glance at her. She just so happened to be smiling fondly at me. It was contagious like it always was, and I found myself grinning like an idiot. She must have found it amusing because she stifled a chuckle at the sight of me. It's a shame she didn't let it out. Her laughter was beautiful. Oblivion, everything about her was just so damned beautiful. Not her fault she had to hold it back though. Isran would probably smack her with his oar if she made a peep.

My attention was directed back to the castle that loomed ever closer. Isran wanted us to stop before we reached the actual beach and wade through the water. He said that the vampires would be more likely to hear us hitting damp sand than if we slowly went across the water. It was that and the fact that if we needed to make a quick retreat, it would be easier if the boats were already in the water and not beached.

Before we knew it, Isran raised his hand high above his head, and the barely audible splashes from the oars ceased. I carefully placed the oar on the boat's wooden flooring and turned around to face Serana, Isran, and Agmaer, who had been deathly quiet the whole ride. Isran pointed at the small anchor that rested between Serana and I. He then gestured to lower it down.

Exchanging nods, Serana and I grabbed the anchor and held it over the edge of the boat. Taking hold of the rope, we allowed it to slowly slide into the water until it hit the ground not far down. I tied the rope around the small wooden post attached to the boat. Once it felt secure enough, I gave Isran a thumb up. Without further ado, he eased himself over the edge of the boat as quietly as possible until he was chest deep and walking. The soft sound of bodies entering the water was heard all around, only detectable if one were looking for the sound.

Serana and Agmaer followed suit, leaving me on the boat. My eyes found the embroidered bow and the single sun hallowed arrow that went with it. Auriel's Bow. I didn't need a quiver for a single arrow. I would have asked for more Elven arrows to be enchanted but I only had one. I slid the arrow into a slit in the back of my armor. It was there for the sole purpose of fitting one to three arrows in case of emergency. I took the bow and strapped it to my back, the bowstring clinging diagonally across my chest. It was unlikely that I'd fire the arrow at the sun. No need to cause Serana and I avoidable and excruciating along with all the other vampires. I did believe that a shot from this bow, with this arrow, would help put Harkon down for the count.

Patting my flanks to make sure the Blade of Woe and my dragon bone sword were sheathed on my person, I slid down into the water. Hunters were approaching the beach all around me. I joined the short trek, moving as silently as possible.

There was a fog surrounding the castle and the beach. I had to bet that it was an enchantment. Every single time I've been here, there was the thick fog that surrounded the area but dissipated the moment you got to a certain distance. It was probably to lessen the impact of the sun. It made the place seem even gloomier.

In no time, my boots hit dry earth, and I found my place next to Isran and Serana. Glancing to my right and looking up, I found that the watchtower looked to be unmanned. Isran read my mind, because he turned to one of the hunters and pointed at the doorway leading to the tower's stairs. With an affirmative nod, the hunter quietly picked up the pace and reached the doorway. He prepared a crossbow and an axe before making his way into the tall structure.

The Imperial frigate had to be close by now. It took a detour to be able to easily position itself next to the bridge when the right time came. The strategic position allowed the archers, crossbowmen, and Gunmar and his trolls to flank the vampires. Only... It hardly seemed like there was anything to flank with how things stood at the moment.

After several tense minutes of staring at the gates across the bridge and waiting for any sign of life, Isran couldn't seem to take it anymore. He turned to me and jerked a thumb back to the direction of the gates. The rest of the hunters seemed to catch on, as they prepared their weapons and formed behind Isran, Serana, and I. I drew my blades and we slowly advanced onto the bridge, each step feeling heavier and heavier. Isran probably knew we were likely walking into an ambush. He probably felt that it was either this or wait an eternity at the beachhead until we died of old age while the vampires outlived us. Well, outlived everyone but Serana and I anyway.

The gargoyles to our sides remained still, but the hunters closest to them refused to stop training their weapons at the stony beasts. We were halfway across the bridge when I saw it. The shimmers in the air. The faintest breaks in the thick air's consistency. Cloaked vampires. The wavy air towards the front of the gate indicated that there was a large number of them gathered in that direction. There could have been more but I couldn't pinpoint them at the moment. One stood out in particular, only standing several meters ahead.

I knew it wasn't just I that noticed, as I could hear Isran's heavy breathing, and I could see Serana's fingers curling tighter around her dagger in anticipation. When I stopped, so did everyone else. Divines, it was as if time stood still as I glared at the soft shimmer not far off. We were just waiting for something to break the tension now.

And something did.

With a flash of a hazy purple, there stood Harkon in the flesh, his hands clasped behind his back as he displayed an arrogant, toothy grin.

I sheathed my blades and my hand went straight for the bow on my back, and in a second, I was gripping the bow with my left, and pointing the arrow at him with my right. All the other hunters to my rear that had crossbows readied their weapons as well, evidenced by the sharp cracks indicating the bowstrings being set into place.

Harkon however, did not acknowledge the weapons directed at him. His fiery eyes were narrowed at Serana. You could practically _see_ the evil intentions in his eyes.

"My dear daughter returns." Harkon turned his head to me, his smile eerie. "And you've brought your pet. How delightful."

"This ends now." Was Serana's growl in reply before she turned to me. "Shoot."

"Oh, I agree. I do, really. This battle of night and day has gone on far too long. But Mikhael..." Harkon's hands emerged from behind his back to rub each other idly. "Before you release that arrow, do you not want to find out what the plan is?"

"Don't listen to him." Isran hissed at me. Maybe I should have complied with Isran. It's just that there was something in Harkon's voice that compelled me to hold back for a moment longer. He had something up his sleeve. If he was going to tell me about it before actually pulling it out, then I stood a better chance against whatever it was.

"I think you both know our friend here," Harkon snapped his fingers, and Dexion Evicus stepped out from the shadows of the gate, holding a Scroll. It was like he was in a trance. He simply walked with even steps, his eyes locked on Harkon, but at the same time seemed to be staring blankly. Enthralled. I could tell this was going to get bad fast.

"What's the priest doing here?" I growled in question.

"It isn't hard having a few of my own infiltrate your undermanned fort. Oh, worry not. My men did not waste their time on your pathetic guards. They simply took the old man and left." Harkon explained, his voice amused somewhat.

"Leave the priest out of this, Harkon. He doesn't need to be dragged into this any more than he already is." My warning fell on deaf ears, and Harkon continued speaking as if I had not said a thing.

Harkon's hand shot out and he pulled the man close, using him as a human shield. With his free hand, he drew his sword and pressed it against the moth priest's neck.

"Let him go." I commanded firmly, causing Harkon to roll his eyes. As if on cue, multiple flashes behind Harkon revealed the position of several dozen vampires lying in wake, the front most row pointing bows in our direction. Several vampiric archers manned the walls as well. Harkon had us right where he wanted us.

"Behind you." Was Harkon's next haughty utterance.

A glance behind me revealed that there were at least ten more vampires positioned to the rear of our formation, at the end of the bridge. At the top of the watchtower was another vampire, except this one had a hunter by the neck, and was threatening to throw him off. The odds were against us, but with the eventual arrival of the Imperial frigate, I believed we could still make it out more or less alive and intact.

The group of hunters behind me was raising their shields in anticipation of the inevitable arrow barrage. It was good that we had just enough shields to cover the front and the back to create an effective shield wall that protected everyone save for Serana, Isran, and I.

"Give me Auriel's Bow." It was Harkon's turn to issue a command to me.

Reluctantly, I slid the arrow into the back of my armor. I gripped the bow tightly in my hand but remained still.

"The bow for the priest." Isran's response surprised everyone present. When he caught my look, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He had a plan. Harkon may have caught on. If he did, he paid it no mind. He lowered the blade and pushed the priest forward. Dexion didn't move immediately, the Scroll still stuck in his hands. It was likely he was still waiting for Harkon's mental command.

"The old man told me not long ago... the Elder Scrolls are unpredictable. He said they had defied the very laws of nature time and time again, sometimes to devastating effects..." Harkon stared into the moth priest's back for a moment before continuing. "I admit he sparked my curiosity."

Without warning, Harkon's blade was impaled into Dexion's back and exited through his chest. His grey robes steadily reddened as he dropped to his knees. He sputtered and coughed, blinking several times before his eyes widened. Recognition crossed his face, enthrallment broken. Dexion's eyes locked onto the blade protruding from his chest as his blood dripped onto the Elder Scroll he loosely held in his hands. The stunned man's gaze snapped to me for a moment, and I could hear his unspoken apology.

"Such blood with relation to the Scrolls must have an effect on these artifacts." Harkon muttered, his boot moving to push Dexion down. The Scroll must have been soaked at this point.

A hand grabbed my wrist and began pulling me back. I turned, expecting it to be Serana. It was Isran, who grabbed Serana with his other hand. He was pulling us into the tightly knit shield wall. He didn't want to risk whatever was going to happen next. I wasn't going to have any of that. I needed to kill this bastard now.

I yanked myself free from his grip as he and Serana were swallowed by the shield wall. I could hear Serana sharply calling my name, commanding me to retreat behind the shields. I ignored her. Drawing my blades yet again, I charged Harkon, a powerful roar leaving my lips, his head on a pike being my sole objective.

As the distance between us rapidly decreased, Dexion's corpse abruptly rolled to the side, causing me to skid to a halt. The bloodstained Scroll levitated a few good feet into the air and I could feel everyone staring at it in apprehension.

Before I knew it, the Scroll vanished with a blinding flash and a powerful wave of energy directed straight at me. I felt the wind leave me as I soared back and collided with the Dawnguard's shield wall at full speed. Numerous grunts left the formation as I cracked several shields on impact before hitting the ground with a thud, effectively dazed. Several hands went to pull me up until Serana took it upon herself to sling my arm over her shoulder and support me. I barely noticed any of this. My eyes were locked onto the... rip. Tear. Break. Whatever it was that floated where the Scroll used to be.

Instead of seeing Harkon, the vampires, and the castle, there was a long grey, wavy tear that slowly widened. There were voices behind it. Voices that were all too familiar.

"Serana, we have to move." The ancient vampire to my side looked at me with wide eyes.

"What? Why?" Serana's voice resounded from behind the tear as it widened further. I could make out two figures by now, obviously Serana and Valerica. Serana muttered obscenities under her breath as the situation got more and more out of this world.

"Your father is on to us. He's been working in secret all this time, right under our noses. He- By the blood of my ancestors. Run!" The silhouette behind the tear darted forward, and with another flash, here was Valerica.

Her head darted back and forth as her hands went to her person, feeling herself as if it would confirm if what she saw was real. Her shocked and puzzled face went to look at Serana, who supported my weight with ease.

"Serana? How did I get here? What is-" She turned around, to find Harkon stalking her menacingly. This was paralleled perfectly behind the tear. It had become wider yet, and more detailed. I could see Harkon slowly approaching Serana, who was looking around and shouting for her mother to come out from wherever she was.

Harkon ran Valerica through without second thought. With his free hand, Harkon grabbed the front of her armor and pulled her even closer, eliciting a sickening squish from the blade in her chest. "This is for a good cause."

The Serana to my side produced a sharp gasp as Valerica went limp in her father's hands. Except this couldn't be Valerica. Valerica was in that damned Soul Cairn. How was any of this possible?

Conversely, the Serana beyond the grey haze cried out in pain as Harkon seized her and mercilessly put an end to her.

"This can't be..." I turned my wide eyes to Serana, who had a hand on her nose, which was dripping with blood.

I straightened up slightly, struggling to do so as my back was still in immense pain. "What's wrong?"

It was a foolish question. But taking into consideration the fact that there was no logical reason for her nose to suddenly bleed, it was rational. Before she could respond, her grip on me faltered, and I fell straight through her and hit the ground roughly. Turning to look at her, she was slowly becoming... translucent. She tried patting herself down as panic consumed her. Her eyes, wide with fear, locked onto mine. "Mikhael."

"Serana." My voice cracked slightly at the sound of her voice. She sounded so scared.

She tried to reach out for my hand, a gesture I returned. It was useless, our hands slipped past each other and we grabbed nothing but air.

It was her feet that were losing color the fastest, and it slowly spread upward. There was a trail of her essence, leading to the now narrowing tear. Beside the tear was Harkon, who was staring at his wife's corpse with a mixture of sadness and pity. I guessed sadness for her death and pity for the fact that she thought it would be wise to oppose him. But was it even really _his_ wife?

Serana was gone up to the waist now, and her breathing became shallow and rapid. "Do something!" She ordered.

"I can't!" My arms swung across her figure in a failed attempt to grab her.

"The Bow." The dark voice coming from behind me was ignored, and I felt myself desperately trying to caress her face, my fingers shaking at the lack of solid contact.

"Look out!" It was the last thing Serana said before she faded away into the tear; it was also the moment the tear vanished completely, along with the Scroll. It was as if time had resumed, as the battle abruptly began. The first arrow struck my armor hard, and had Serana's face contort further in terror the second she disappeared along with the tear.

Another lodged itself into my chest.

And another.

And another, dropping me to the ground.

I blocked out the pinging sounds of arrow meeting shield as the archers began raining death on the hunters. I was numb. It wasn't just the armor numbing everything. It was _her_.

My fingers clawed at the ground she stood on not seconds ago. Gone.

I felt myself unable to speak. Unable to utter her name. _Serana_.

Several hands began dragging me into the shield wall when a figure entered my vision. It was charging straight for us. My eyes struggled to focus on the attacker. I realized it was Harkon. Of course it was. He wanted the Bow.

I pawed my sheathes as the hunters stood me up and supported me. They were empty. Looking ahead, they were a few good feet behind Harkon, discarded when the Scroll blasted me back.

He was focused solely on me. Harkon paid the hunters no mind. As he reached full speed of his charge, he rammed against his shoulder against the shields with all his might, knocking the whole formation back a few steps and disorienting the hunters. It was all he needed to grab me by the neck and pull me out of the formation. The hunters could do little to help. If they lowered their shields for a moment, they'd be shot dead by an arrow. Harkon tossed me to the ground and raised his blade high.

There was a very short moment that occurred as Harkon's sword reached its maximum height. In that moment, I found myself questioning if I should bother trying to parry the blade. Serana's frightened face was burned into my mind, and my heart was heavy. What was the point of fighting back?

But it was also in that moment that I knew she would never want me to give up. She would never forgive me for doing so. And she doubly never would forgive me for allowing myself to be killed so easily. She was gone but I could still hear her voice in the back of my head urging me on. Never quit. Never surrender. It was then that I decided I'd do it for her. If there was the tiniest chance in the world that she still lived, beyond the tear or not, I'd stay alive long enough to find out her condition.

I struck my foot out as the blade came down, deflecting the attack with my armored calf and knocking the blade out of his hand. What I didn't expect was Harkon to immediately follow it up and use his downward momentum to strike me in the face.

The blow connected and my head snapped back against the hard ground, dazing me. He was mounting me and began dealing strikes to my face, which I struggled to parry. For every five strikes he dealt, I probably only deflected one properly. How could I? I could barely see straight. Each blow was just making it worse. When my head stopped rocking as it hit the ground, I raised my hands up to guard my face. He was about to strike me with the heel of his palm, which could either knock me out or kill me outright, depending on the point of contact. I was unable to utilize the brief reprieve to use my core to throw him off. My back was too bruised and battered from the Scroll. I did the next best thing.

"FU-" The shout was interrupted by his hand covering my mouth.

The last thing I saw before everything turned black was Harkon cocking his open palm back to strike me, his sickly grin that exposed his hungry fangs, and his evil eyes gleaming in delight of my impending demise.


	2. A Bloody Retreat

**A/N: Hey there, folks. I want to quickly apologize for the time it took me to churn this chapter out, and I'd like to apologize because of how combat heavy this chapter is. The flashback style should end in either the next chapter or the one after that. I tried to keep this one short so the combat doesn't get stale after a while. This is one of those necessarily heavy fighting chapters. Things will settle down a bit in the succeeding chapters.**

**Also, to those asking, this isn't exactly an alternate universe where this story takes place. Rather, in this story, no, Mikhael never killed Harkon. In this story, there is no existing universe where Mikhael defeats Harkon. You'd do well to remember that, it'll be pivotal towards the end of the story. ;)**

**Read and review, my dear readers!**

My vision cleared and the memories retreated back to the deep recesses of my mind. By the looks of it, little to no time had elapsed while the battle between the Volkihar Army and the legion waged on. The sky was still blood red. The second to the last unit of men was still being beat down. I still sat on the ground with my now mended shoulder and a fresh scar to add to the collection. I still wore a light set of Imperial armor as opposed to my resilient dragon scale armor. The only thing that changed was that my nose no longer dripped with blood. It was a good sign, if anything.

Turning my attention to the approaching vampires, I caught one's sick grin as he reached down to take hold of a one-armed torso of a man that withered in his grip. Almost effortlessly, he flung it across the battlefield, at the last unit of legionaries shaking in their boots. The torso made contact with one man's shield, bringing about a loud cry of surprise. He was becoming hysterical. I couldn't make out what he said among the other curses and grunts among the men in rank. What I did notice was that he dropped his shield, threw his helmet to the ground, and fought to make it to the back of the unit. He was routing. Of all people to rout, it was the unit's commander. One of the last authoritative figures left in the vicinity, considering the legion's residing captain perished in the first wave.

All it took was one man running for his life to get the rest to consider joining him. I had to stand my ground with these men if the Imperials wanted any chance of keeping this tiny outpost... and if I wanted any chance of sneaking across the border. All I needed to do was destroy this unit of vampires and sneak past the next then, well... Cyrodiil here I come.

I stood up slowly but surely. I steadily made my way to the rest of the legionaries, fear absent from my features. No time to be shell shocked now. Their damned vampire scare tactics wouldn't work on me again.

I drew my sword, making sure its sound rang loud and clear across the grassy, blood-soaked field. I kept my steel dagger in its sheath. I instead picked up the large Imperial shield dropped by the runner. Tossing my helmet to the ground, I adorned the commander's slightly decorated steel helmet. My hardy glare caused the man who took his place to back up a few steps to give me room to enter their ranks.

As soon as I got the feel of the unit, I bellowed, "Form shield wall!"

There was a moment of delay when the other men in the unit silently questioned my order; an order from a nobody. I don't know what did it, but they complied. They modified their slightly square formation into that of a rectangle to cover more space and then raised their shields.

"Flanks raise shields!" I called yet again.

They obeyed, much to my delight. Those at the sides and the rear turned outward to better defend against flanking maneuvers by the vampiric army. No doubt the formation would break after a good deal of pushing and stabbing. The advantage would be that when it breaks, we'd still be roughly one wall against another. Less backstabbing.

"Steady." I muttered to those closest to me. No doubt they were rattled and unnerved at the sight of the charging vampiric army. With how they kept the bloodiest of their undead soldiers at the front for maximum impact to morale, I wasn't surprised.

Was this how that day should have turned out?

A mob of vampires meeting our lines of hunters head on, fighting tooth and nail for every inch of land?

Better yet, does a world exist out there, where this is exactly how that day turned out?

The memories were clouding my thoughts, and I struggled to fight them off. I didn't need to think of them now. Spacing out into thought seemed to almost be triggered by stress, which made it all the more worse.

The sight of the bloodthirsty vampires charging at us...

I shook my head vigorously, trying to remove the thoughts from my head. The flashes of unfamiliar images of battles that never happened were threatening to fill my vision. I didn't need to slip away now of all times. In an attempt to lock myself in the present, I glared daggers at the sprinting vampires as they neared. I allowed the fictional combat in my mind to transform into a battle plan for the present and how I was going to slaughter the vampires before me. In moments, I had the flow of fighting mapped out in my head and effectively grounded myself in reality.

I turned my head back to look at the men in rank and spoke clearly and loudly. "We fight for a Skyrim free from vampiric rule." Before turning back to the approaching attack force, I shouted, "GIVE NO QUARTER!"

In a follow up effort to raise morale as the first vampire braced for contact with our shields, I let out a battle cry, long and loud. Row by row, the legionaries joined me, unifying our voices into one, powerful roar in defiance to the vampiric rule over Skyrim.

Bright purple flashes entered my vision, indicating several vampires moving around to flank us. That didn't matter. We were prepared for that.

Grunts from my sides, paired with loud thuds, meant that the first few made contact, and so began the shoving and stabbing. I locked my eyes onto that of a vampire that was charging for my shield; his eyes screamed murder. His clawed hand raised a sword up high to try and cleave its way around my shield. I wouldn't give him the chance.

As soon as he was in range, I stepped forward slightly without breaking rank. I swung my shield, the hard metal connecting with the vampire's face and causing his step to falter. I followed up quickly by shoving my sword into his abdomen, blood dripping onto my hand in the process. I quickly withdrew my blade as the vampire swung his own. I blocked the attack with my shield and proceeded to kick my attacker square in the chest. He had good footwork, and so was only pushed back a step or two. Just as I wanted.

When he tried to close in to resume the melee, I met him with a quick swing of my sword which sent his head sailing. I was back in formation by the time his body hit the floor to join his severed head. My companions were holding their ground rather well, as the formation was still unbroken, and I could see a few fallen vampires around us.

The next vampire rammed into my shield at full force causing me to grunt as I absorbed the impact. I kept my sword low as I pressed my head against my shield. My boots dug into the soil, my hoe like heels causing the earth to pile up behind me as the vampire pushed. I could feel my comrade's shield press into my back; he was pushing forward, unintentionally sandwiching me when he was trying to help me stand my ground. The offending vampire cursed as he violently swung his axe over my shield in feeble attempts to hit me. I would have none of it as I waited for the undead bastard's shoving to hinder in the slightest.

Feeling a decrease in the force exerted on my shield, I took my chance. I steadied my stance and made sure I was planted firmly on the ground, preventing him from pushing me any further back. With a powerful roar, I swung my shield wide, effectively pushing the vampire back. My sword quickly found his abdomen, and it just as quickly withdrew. He swung his axe fast and hard, and I met it with my shield.

The Imperial shield of steel and wood cracked against the vampire's inhuman strength, sending splinters all around; it wasn't useless just yet though. I attacked with my sword again with a hook-like stab. My blade found its mark and sunk into my foe's neck, severing arteries and shattering bone. His head bent awkwardly to press against the blade, his left eye twitched ever so slightly before he finally fell to his knees.

The skirmish was turning ever so slightly in our favor. I could tell by how the formation loosened to allow the men to spread out to form a multiple rowed wall to push against the vampires. It was our turn to take the offensive. I kept up with the trend the legionaries were setting. Kicking the kneeling vampire onto his back, I steadily moved forward, my steps even and my guard ready.

Two of Harkon's undead minions began charging me, probably seeing my helmet as an indicator of rank. The first turned invisible with a flash of purple, while the second engaged me immediately. The vampire raised his arm high, aiming to cleave me shoulder to hip with his sword. I ducked low and to his side, gritting my teeth when his blade made contact with my the steel jutting out of my helmet. The contact was jarring and abrupt; I imagined his attack cut a portion of the helmet right off. Not allowing the attack to put me off, I plunged my sword into his gut hilt deep.

With a loud grunt, I yanked downwards, effectively ripping his stomach open and freeing my blade. He stumbled forward as blood poured from his midsection, his eyes turning to the shadow I just barely noticed behind me.

I turned just in time to raise my shield to block the first vampire's attack as he reappeared. Mace met shield, and mace won. The shield elicited an ear-splitting crack as half of it fell away entirely, leaving me with half a shield. The vampire quickly followed up with a claw aimed at my face. My blade came up out of reflex and I sliced the vampire's hand off before I knew it. In a fit of rage and pain, the vampire stomped in my direction and proceeded to kick me square in the chest, sending me several good feet back. I felt what was left of my shield leave my grip when I made contact with the ground, my head violently smacking against it.

My vision swirled as I struggled to keep my eyes locked on my attacker as he closed in on me, eyes screaming murder.

My head pounded, my hands trembled, and I could feel blood slowly but steadily slipping into my mouth. My hand automatically went up to my nose, which was the source of blood. Divines be damned. This was a bad time to black out.

I fought against the darkness that crept into view, all the while the vampire above me moved in for the kill. It was all in vain.

* * *

I groggily rolled on my side, my eyes shut tight. My memory was hazy and my head was throbbing... and so was my nose. A hand went up to find dried blood that leaked down my nostrils not long ago. My fingers ran along the bone, and I grimaced in the realization that it was broken. Not just this, but I could taste dried, bitter blood on my lips. My blood. I had been sputtering it out. This wasn't a good sign. I slowly opened my eyes and immediately grunted in pain.

Dim light began to enter my vision.

Followed by distorted shapes.

And finally sharp images.

What was puzzling was the haze of sepia through which I saw things.

Hardly a minute had passed and the battle carried on. The Dawnguard was still in a tight square formation, effectively blocking any arrows from penetrating their defense. I barely caught any stray fire. Any arrows that did hit me just painlessly lodged themselves into my dragon scale armor. Only arrows of high quality could cut through my armor. These steel arrows would just draw a little blood and stain my underclothes at the very worst.

My eyes widened when I recalled the events that led to my brief unconsciousness. I rolled to my other side to look at the Volkihar and the son of a bitch that didn't hit me hard enough to kill me.

My blood ran cold.

In Harkon's bloody claws was the Bow of Auriel. Except now, it was almost unrecognizable. It emitted an eerie, sinister glow and was coated in dark red. At his feet was Valerica, blood still slowly oozing from her limp form.

He had Valerica's... other-worldly-Valerica's blood. He had the bow. The ritual was complete.

I wasn't having vision problems. The sun was blotted out and it painted the world in an unnatural, bloody haze.

We lost.

Harkon's sick cackling sent a shiver down my spine as I watched him sling the bow across his person. He appeared to stop for a moment before grabbing hold of Valerica's corpse by the foot and slowly dragging it back to his line of vampires. The vampire lord caught my gaze, resulting in a disgusted sneer reaching his features. "Destroy these fools."

That was all it took. I sharply sat up, causing my head to spin yet again. I fought against the nausea that was quickly developing. Raising my armored gauntlets to protect my face, I slowly stood up and backed up into the Dawnguard's shield wall. I ignored the arrows that grazed my gauntlets and helmet and embedded themselves into my armor. They were irrelevant to my current train of thought. My head snapped from side to side, searching for she who I valued above all else. My blood went colder still as images flashed into my shaky vision; images of Serana fading into Oblivion as I tried and failed to hold onto her.

The Dawnguard lost this war. I lost Serana. What more was there to lose?

I felt a hand yank me back and into the formation for the nth time that day. As the shields closed around me, the arrows in my armor snapped and shattered as they were pressed against the hunters' backs. A Redguard's familiar voice reached my ear.

"We're falling back to the fort to regroup. We will win this. Not today, but mark my words, we will."

"We _will_. If it's the last thing I do." I growled back at him, a sudden fire brewing within me as our- as _my_ defeats on all fronts became more and more evident. I couldn't afford to be grief-stricken now. Now, I had to be strong. It's what she would have told me to do.

I was going to fix this. For all of Nirn and for Serana. I didn't plan on letting anything stop me.

After several more long seconds, the sound of arrow on shield halted. Deathly silence filled the air for only so long before the vampires let out bloodcurdling battle cries. They were charging at us before we knew it. In what little time we had before they hit our formation head on, the hunters began snapping the arrows free from their shields; others unslung their crossbows and raised them up to eye level.

As if on cue, a battle horn's bellowing resounded throughout the area. The very same that echoed across the walls of Windhelm as the civil war drew to a close. The Imperials arrived with the rest of the Dawnguard's reinforcements. I could see the ship slowly coming up on the right side of the bridge, its massive sails fluttering in the wind, archers and crossbowmen lining the railing. Gunmar's trolls were undoubtedly behind the firing line, waiting to be released.

They were right on time. An effeminate voice gave the order to fire and a hail of bolts and arrows alike came flying at the vampires, putting several down for the count.

Figuring it best to call on Durnehviir for help as we began the retreat, I inhaled deeply. "DURNEHVIIR!"

The roar of a reply was instantaneous and his arrival was imminent. Like a great bird of prey, I could see his silhouette high in the clouds above, creating a black splotch to contrast the blood red sky. It was mere moments before Durnehviir swooped down, wings spread wide, mouth agape. He ripped several vampires from where they stood, casting them into the air as he passed. The undead dragon circled around to blast a cold stream of frost at the advancing vampires. The charge broken, the hunters on foot began engaging the vampires. We had to hide behind our shields as Durnehviir froze a handful of the vampires solid. The cold could be felt from where we stood.

It was just then the battle trolls made their appearance, barreling across the thin gangplank that connected the ship to the bridge, smacking the vampires about like they were mere ragdolls. Multiple loud bangs indicated several gargoyles freeing themselves from their immobile stony shells to enter the fray. They were hardly a match for the massive armored trolls going on a rampage.

Isran shoved a dagger into my hand before moving to swing his great warhammer in a wide arc that obliterated a gargoyle's snarling face. I was unarmed without this small steel dagger. My weapons were no doubt being kicked around somewhere on the farther side of the bridge. A dagger was better than nothing I suppose. I dealt a quick leg kick to an approaching vampire, causing him to buckle, enough for me to seize his other leg. Ramming my shoulder into his midsection, I took him down and shoved my dagger into his chest repeatedly until he stopped squirming.

The merits of having little weaponry as opposed to none.

My allied dragon flew in close once again. This time he was going for the vampiric archers that were knocking their arrows into place. My eyes widened as a dark figure leapt from the balcony housing the archers. Durnehviir barely had time to swing his head around. The dark figure landed on his neck, his long blade hacking away at the dragon's scaly flesh. I just barely made out the distinctive armor and the long hair neatly tied back. It was Harkon. He no doubt realized that he risked the battle's outcome now. The scales were just beginning to tip in our favor.

Durnehviir shook his neck back and forth vigorously, blood dripping onto the ground beneath him at an alarming rate. It wasn't long before he threw Harkon off. The bastard hit the castle wall hard, creating a sizeable indentation as he did. He was repositioning himself now, gripping the rocky wall with his clawed hands, snarling at the dragon before him. His legs coiled, he jumped back at Durnehviir with great speed; except this time, he had something else in mind.

Casting his blade away, he let out a roar loud enough to rival any dragon. By the time he landed on the end of Durnehviir's snout, he had transformed into a vampire lord. His long claws allowed a much better grip on Durnehviir, and he was not easily removed.

Harkon plunged his dagger like nails into Durnehviir's eyes, as both of them glowed an eerie red. He was sucking what little life Durnehviir had right out of him. His great wings withered, their flaps faltering, his scales decayed, the soft flesh exposing itself. When his ribs began to expose themselves and the flesh on his skull began to peel away, it was obvious he wasn't going to stay for much longer. The familiar large purple haze began to envelop Durnehviir and he was gone before I could blink.

Harkon came crashing down to the bridge, landing in a crouch and creating another small crater. Standing up to his full height, he easily grabbed a hold of two charging battle trolls, his claws digging into their armor. He shoved them hard against the ground and opened his maw, sucking the life out of them both before moving on to attack the rest of the Dawnguard.

It was evident that this was getting very bad very fast yet again. If we were going to pull out we had to do it immediately. Going for the ship as a means of escape was slowly becoming less and less of an option. The Volkihar were pushing us too far back and the ship would take too long to maneuver anyway.

To make matters worse, the archers, now unhindered, fired a barrage of flaming arrows at the ship. Several oil lanterns were cast off the balcony and onto the ship, hastening up the fire's spread. The archers and crossbowmen alike had to disembark, lest they be burned alive.

The cries of "Abandon ship!" could be heard as they began their evacuation. Some fell off the gangplank as they pushed and shoved to get to solid ground. Some got stuck on board as the flames licked their boots and the gangplank fell with the rest of the unfortunate men. Some made it across and straight into the Volkihar's waiting claws and fangs.

We were in full retreat to the boats now. The men at the front were in full sprint; their sprints turned into panicked wading as they rushed to their boats. I remained closer to the rear so I was able to help the rest of the hunters in what little way I could. With each step we took, it was as if we lost another hunter to the vampires.

Before long, I was on a boat with Isran and Agmaer. The lad, bleeding profusely from one eye, was weighing anchor for all he was worth, his bloody hands occasionally causing the chain to slip. Only a measly one third of the boats were manned, two of them housing one troll each, one being a particularly rambunctious frost troll. How the trolls' unruly movements didn't cause them to capsize before we even set off, I had no idea.

We took what little dead we could with us. It wasn't right leaving their bodies with the Volkihar. Divines damn us all for being unable to take all of the fallen hunters with us.

As we began to paddle, I realized the arrows stopped. Looking back, I saw Harkon, back in human form, with the rest of the vampires. He was letting us leave. Instead of letting his archers pick us off, he was letting us leave. The arrogance. I shouldn't be surprised.

They cheered and howled like animals, jeering at their retreating foes, basking in the feeling of victory. Only one stood quiet and composed. Only Harkon. His sinister smile refused to leave my mind as I turned away and brought my attention back to the paddling.

Isran was silent as he rowed, even when I stopped for a moment to raise his bloody dagger up to eye level. He simply shook his head and pointed at the sheathe on my person. I just as wordlessly complied and went back to rowing. It was going to be a long way back to Fort Dawnguard.


End file.
